Together, or Not at All
by odieotie
Summary: Amy and Rory are together at last. They can finally grow old with each other. However, as they spend more and more time together, Amy starts to learn everything Rory went through while waiting for her with the Pandorica- and the fact he still remembers it. Sequel of sorts to "2000" Rory/Amy
1. Home

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is going to be a series of one-shots based off of my Rory fic "2000." Set after TATM, Amy slowly discovers how Rory's years with the Pandorica have changed him. I'm planning to have the chapters correspond in some way, so reading my other fic might help you to understand things better.**

**I hope you all enjoy this, I think it's a really interesting facet to explore, especially since Amy thought at first Rory didn't remember his life waiting (or at least it's implied) and I always find their relationship fascinating.**

**Angst will ensue.**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Disclaimer:I do not own Doctor Who

* * *

Amy looked around at her surroundings. She assumed that the angel had sent her back as she was no longer standing in the graveyard with her daughter and the Doctor. So that was goodbye then.

She was standing in a quaint park, couples strolling around and children frolicking among the trees. The fashions were quite different than 2012, and she realized she must stick out like a sore thumb.

That was of no importance to her however. Had she been sent back to the same time as Rory? She turned in a circle, looking for any sight of him. The fear that maybe they hadn't landed together tugged at the pit of her stomach. What if she had ended up in a totally different age? She could never see the Doctor again, he wouldn't be able to take her to him if the angel had hurdled her somewhere else. Was the risk she had just taken worth it?

Amy shook the thought from her head, returning her search for Rory again. He had to be here. He _had_ to be.

"Amy?" She heard his voice and snapped her head around. A man dressed in strange clothes was just rounding the bend of the sidewalk, and he stared at her as if she was a ghost.

"Rory?" she whispered, her voice catching. "Rory!" This time her voice was louder, almost yelling. She took off, legs moving as fast as they could, arms pumping. "RORY!" She yelled his name, her beacon of light in the dark and dangerous storm. She could hear him calling for her as well, racing towards her.

She was reminded of when she first got out of the Pandorica. Seeing him for the first time, thinking he was dead. Knowing he had waited for her. She ran to him with the same eagerness as she had back then, before the universe was rebooted. She just needed him.

They ran into each other at breakneck speeds, immediately embracing and holding each other as close as possible. Amy buried her head into Rory's shoulder, half sobbing. She noted that his usual smell was slightly altered. They squeezed each other so that the other could hardly breathe, but it didn't matter. They were together.

Then they were kissing, tasting each other's lips as if for the first time. Tears ran down both of their faces and mingled with the kiss, making a slight salty taste. They stood there for several seconds, oblivious to the outside world, just relishing in each other's presence. _Together_.

Rory was the one to break the kiss. He looked down at her lips, and then into Amy's eyes, giving her one of the happiest smiles she had ever seen. She returned it to him, squeezing his hands in her own.

"Amelia Pond," he whispered, stroking the side of her face. "Let's take you home."

* * *

Amy turned around, taking in the quaint apartment in some region of New York that Rory had taken her to. It was rather small, but quite homely. It gave off a sense of humbleness, and Amy looked rather in awe as she walked through the hallway, examining the bedrooms.

"How'd you get all of this?" she asked in her Scottish accent, looking back at the still beaming Rory. He seemed a little shy about the house however, as if he was worried she wouldn't approve.

"I, uh, got a job. Working at the hospital. It's just a couple of blocks down the street and I can request part time if you want," he explained nervously, searching her face for some sort of appreciation.

"Rory it's wonderful," Amy replied, tears in her eyes. They could have a home. "But how did you get a job so fast? And such a nice apartment?"

Amy stopped in her tracks as she reached their bedroom. Rory seemed to sense something was wrong and rushed to her side, looking concerned.

"Rory…" Amy's voice trembled. "Have the Silence been here?" the back wall had a large sheet of paper hung up on it with tens, no hundreds of tally marks. Recalling the horrible monsters that took away Melody, Amy shuddered.

"Oh! No! I've only seen a couple of them- or at least, I've only seen a couple of tally marks on my hand. No, this is um, well, it's how I keep- kept- track of how many days since I got here. Old habit," Rory explained, fidgeting a bit.

Amy turned to face him, searching deep into his eyes. "How many days?" Rory looked down at his feet. "How many days, Rory?" Amy demanded, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Three hundred ninety-seven," he replied without so much as a blink of an eye. Amy stared in shock at her husband. He had waited over a year for her. She found herself speechless.

"I took a walk in the park every day; it's where I was sent so I figured they would send you there too. Looks like I was right," Rory explained, smiling at his wife.

"You waited over a year for me, not even knowing if I would show up, or if I would show up in the right place," Amy replied, almost gaping at her husband.

"No." The stern tone of Rory's voice caught Amy by surprise. "I always knew you would come. I never doubted you."


	2. The Porch

**Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update! Stupid finals!**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. I'm going to start making bigger references to "2000" so it might be a little to understand if you haven't read it yet. Forgive me for any awkwardness, I'm not too good at writing the mushy gushy fluffy romantic scenes.**

**I don't own Doctor Who.**

**I really hope you enjoy and feel free to comment/review!**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Amy stood outside on the small porch, Rory behind her holding her as if there were no tomorrow. His arms wrapped around her abdomen, encasing her in joy. She held on loosely to his hands, wrapping herself further into their cocoon of happiness. His head rested on her shoulder, and she rested her own on his. A brilliant night sky glistened above them.

After the original shock of finally being together, the danger finally averted, the two had attacked each other to say the least. Having their own house meant not having to deal with the TARDIS and the Doctor's naïve bunk beds. Plus there definitely were going to be some benefits to not having to worry about the Doctor dropping in at any given moment. Amy lifted the side of her mouth in a small grin as she remembered how nice Rory's bed was. Their bed.

Now, after a long nap and a wonderful shower, she was standing with Rory in the strange American clothes. She felt a little odd, she was used to short skirts, not long dresses, but she had a feeling she could get used to it. She could get used to anything for Rory.

Rory started to place sweet kisses along her neck and collarbone, eliciting a giggle from Amy. Sometimes she wished she weren't so ticklish.

"Stop it," she laughed, twisting her neck so she looked into his eyes.

"Make me," he whispered, continuing to trail the kisses up her sensitive neck.

"Rory!" she giggled, trying to pull away, but he held her tight. She gave out an exasperated sigh. "You are so stubborn sometimes, you know."

"You're the Scottish one," Rory replied with a smirk, looking up to meet her gaze. He bent to return to his taunting pecks. Amy was not about to let him tickle her again though. How could she stop him?

Her mind could only think of one thing. Distract his mouth with something else. _What the hell_, she thought as she brought her mouth to his, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

"Um…wow. Hi," Rory whispered when they finally separated, laughing and looking into her eyes once more.

"I missed you," he whispered, taking one hand away from her waist and bringing it up to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch, smiling at him.

"I missed your hair, and your laugh, and your eyes. Your eyes," Rory breathed, seeming to lose himself for a second. "They shine like the stars. They're so beautiful. You're so beautiful."

Amy blushed at the comment, and gave Rory a peck on his lips.

"Really though. Here," Rory said, turning her and pointing up to the sky. "Pick a star. Any star." Amy was surprised at the words, so similar to the Doctor's that fateful night when she was seven. Her heart ached as she remembered she would never see her best friend again.

"Um…that one!" Amelia declared, pointing up at a particularly bright star, pushing her sad thoughts to the back of her mind. Right now was a happy moment. She was with Rory.

"That one?" Rory asked, pointing to the star to affirm.

"Yeah, that one," she replied, smiling at him.

"This star will henceforth be known as Amelia, as declared by the Last Centurion, protector of Earth," he declared, his voice in a mock pompous tone, but an underlying note of seriousness leaked through.

"Rory-" Amy started, touched by his kindness.

"Shhh," he whispered, putting a finger on her lips. "I made myself a promise long ago that we would find you your star and name it Amelia, because your eyes remind me of the stars and the adventures we've had," he explained.

"Not my star," Amy said, removing his finger from her lips. "Our star."


	3. Sunflowers

**Author's Note: Sorry, I don't know if this chapter is historically accurate, but I tried to make it as realistic as possible.**

**If you haven't read "2000" because you've decided that you're too lazy find it, you should know Rory meets Van Gogh. If you want to know how GO READ IT! (Do you like my sneaky self-promotion?)**

**I don't own Doctor Who (darn it!)**

**I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave comments/review**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Amy was able to get a job as a secretary at the hospital where Rory worked within her first month of arrival. They would walk to work together every morning, and catch as much time together during work as they could. At the end of the day, they would walk home, hand in hand. They still had to get used to the 1940s American culture. Amy often found herself referencing things that hadn't happened yet.

To explain their naivety and accents, they concocted a story that they met and married in England (though Amy grew up in Scotland) and decided to leave for the Americas when the Nazi party started to get aggressive towards Jews (Rory had some distant Jewish relatives and Amy was too worried about his safety to let them stay in Europe.) They had travelled for a while on an inheritance Rory had gotten, seeing all the sights. However, tragedy struck when the Germans blew up their London home and bank in a single air raid, destroying all of their money and documents. They had even lost their marriage license. So with what little money they had remaining, Rory left for New York to find a nice house and a suitable job. Until Rory made enough to send for Amy, she stayed with some friends in the Midwest. Being away each other for over a year had made them over-clingy, which explained why they sometimes acted inappropriately at the hospital (apparently kissing was a scandal at the work place.)

The staff seemed to buy their sob story well enough, much to the Williams' relief. That was another thing. Apparently it wasn't acceptable in this day and age for the husband to take his wife's last name. Amy had reluctantly taken Rory's surname. However, with every day she got more and more used to it. Amelia Williams.

Sunday was the couple's day off, except if Rory was called to the hospital for the rare emergency. They would usually go exploring, discovering their favorite nooks and crannies of the Big Apple. The one thing they made sure to stay away from was the Statue of Liberty. The looming angel still gave the two nightmares or flashbacks to the horrible way their new lives had started.

On one particular Sunday, the two had decided to visit an art museum, hearing raving reviews of a new exhibit. Rory was hesitant at first, Amy had noticed he wasn't a big fan of museums; he usually preferred a walk in the park to looking at mummies or dinosaur bones. Still, Amy was able to convince him to go with puppy eyes and the refusal to return affection. So the odd couple found themselves examining galleries filled with paintings and sculptures.

One particular exhibit made Amy stop dead in her tracks.

"I met him, you know," she commented, her eyes probing over the paintings of sunflowers and wheat fields. "He was a kind man. A kind, sad man."

"So sad," Rory echoed, gazing with the same sense of sorrow.

"Wait," Amy interrupted, breaking out of her trance. "You met Vincent?"

"While I was watching the Pandorica," Rory let slip, still not paying full attention.

"The Pandorica? Rory I thought you said you didn't remember all of that. I thought- "

"There are some things you never forget, Amy. Some miracles. Like the Doctor." Amy flinched, the pain of losing her friend opened like a scab. "You'll never forget him. I'll never forget the man who didn't know you but drew the Pandorica with the swirls making your face. I'll never forget the first picture I got of you, the first glimpse of your beautiful face, since you were locked up in that damned box," Rory explained, bitterness edging in his voice as he remembered his wife's prison.

"Rory, answer me truthfully. Do you remember?" Amy asked, really asked for the first time. She always figured, maybe since he was plastic when he was guarding her, or maybe because the whole universe had rebooted, that his Lone Centurion days had been erased from his memory.

"Every second," Rory replied, gritting his teeth. Amy reached out to grab his hand and gave it what she hoped would be a reassuring squeeze.

"Rory, I had no idea," Amy gasped, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, embracing him.

"It wasn't your fault. On the contrary, it was mine. If I hadn't shot you-" Rory broke off, stopping himself from choking on his own words.

"Don't you dare say that," Amy warned, pulling away to look him in the eyes. "That was not your fault Rory. You _saved_ me, and waited 2,000 years to make sure nothing would happen while I was asleep. If it weren't for you, I would be dead. The whole universe would be dead."

Tears were rolling down Amy's cheeks now, and Rory lifted his hand to wipe them away. Amy grabbed his hand in her own, and held it to her face, taking comfort in his touch.

"You remember."


	4. Surprise

**Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long! Life happened.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and all of the angst(admit it, it's cathardic).**

**I don't own Doctor Who…yet…it will happen ;)**

**Feel free to leave comments and review!**

**Peace, Love, ALLONSY!**

"Surprise!" a chorus of voices called out from the apartment that had been seemingly empty moments beforehand. Amy jumped backwards, instinctively grabbing onto a near candlestick and gripping it tightly, ready to use it to strike any threat.

"Happy Birthday!" the voices called out, mostly in sync. Rory stepped out of the crowd and towards Amy, hands cautiously held out in defensive position.

"It's okay, Amy, it's just me and some friends from work," Rory whispered, carefully prying the candlestick from her fingers.

"I know you don't like surprises I just thought since it's your big thirtieth, and well, I really wanted to see the look on your face," Rory laughed nervously, lips brushing over Amy's fingers which he had brought up to his face. Her frozen face quickly turned into that of a redhead's scorn and she quickly withdrew her fingers from Rory's grasp to bring her palm across his face.

"That," she whispered, fury building up in her voice, "is for scaring the daylights out of me." Rory tenderly touched his cheek, still burning from her slap.

"And this," Amy whispered, scooping Rory's chin into her hands and giving him a quick but passionate kiss, "is for remembering my birthday. Stupid Face," she added as an afterthought, giving him a light punch and turning to remember there were more guests. "Thank you all for coming, it's very kind of you!" With that statement, she tugged a still-stunned Rory by his hand to go and mingle with the half-smiling, half-gaping crowd.

* * *

"_Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Dear Amy, Happy Birthday to you,"_ her friends sang out as Amy awkwardly glanced from face to face. She never knew what to do in this situation. She settled on entwining her fingers in Rory's and blushing, looking down at their connected hands. With the last chord, she bent down and blew out the three candles sitting on top of the crudely frosted chocolate cake. She smiled at Rory again as she thought about the effort he must have put into it.

"Alright, everyone, let's have some cake," Amy laughed, picking the candles out of the decadent cake and licking the frosting off of the bottom. Rory squeezed her hand and she looked back at him to see him a little stunned.

"What?" she asked, reaching for the knife in her peripheral vision.

"What, um, oh, nothing," Rory stuttered, smiling as an afterthought. "Just…happy birthday."

"Okay," Amy replied, still unsure. She always knew when something was wrong with Rory. She figured it would be best to talk to him when the guests were gone though. Taking the knife, she carefully cut the cake, attempting to make the strokes as even as possible.

"Who wants the first slice?"

* * *

"Happy Birthday," Rory whispered, opening a black jewelry box to reveal a small diamond heart connected to a silver chain.

"Rory," Amy breathed, looking from the necklace to her husband's face and back again. "You shouldn't have. How many extra shifts did you have to put in to get this?" she asked, now realizing why her husband had been coming home late recently. All the times he claimed he was going out for a drink with the boys must've been spent toiling away at the hospital.

"It doesn't matter," Rory replied, eyes darkening for a second before returning to their warm, loving nature. "Just, turn around for me?" Amy hesitated for a second before complying, rotating to face bare wall.

Rory gently put the necklace around her neck, gingerly lifting her hair after fastening the clasp. He stood there for a second, relishing the scent of her shampoo before turning her around and giving her a light peck on her forehead.

"Rory it's beautiful," Amy whispered, willing to forget for a moment what he must have gone through to buy it. She was sure they would argue later, but she didn't want to yet, not on her birthday.

"You're beautiful," he whispered back, giving her another kiss on her cheek before sitting down on their couch and propping his feet on their coffee table. Amy gave out a small laugh, looking down at her husband. He truly had adapted to this life, their life. Thinking about it, she realized she had gotten used to this life as well.

"I feel old," Amy commented, plopping down on the dingy couch next to Rory. She snuggled up next to him, tucking her legs up next to her. The party had been fun, but entertaining guests could be tiring and she found her eyelids heavier by the minute.

"You're thirty Amy. I wouldn't exactly call that ancient," Rory huffed, strangely callous.

"What's wrong Rory?" Amy asked. There was something that had been bothering him all day, she could tell. She had avoided it earlier, but she wasn't going to go to share their bed with him if he was going to be throwing a hissy fit.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. It's-" Rory sighed, putting his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't you tell me nothing is wrong, Rory Williams. You've been like a hormonal teenage girl on her period the whole day. What's bothering you?" she demanded, pulling away from him and his arm.

They sat there in the silence, eyes searching each other for many tense moments. Amy refused to speak first; her husband was going to explain what was going on.

"I had so much to give you, Amy, back when I was…plastic. No rent to pay, no food to eat, and a nearly constant income for nearly 2,000 years. I had boxes full of gifts I bought you each birthday. Jewelry and paintings, pressed flowers and candies. I could've bought you a mansion, no joke. And now," Rory trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

"Is that what this is about?" Amy demanded. "You think I care about gifts? About lavish jewelry and mansions?" Rory finally met her eyes.

"I only care about you, Rory. We're together now, and that's all that matters," Amy said, holding his gaze with her own. A tear trickled down his face and he pulled her into a warm embrace.

"We're together."


End file.
